


Bloody Childhood Comforts

by LonelyHumanoid



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Childhood Memories, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Mild Gore, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyHumanoid/pseuds/LonelyHumanoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil stumbles upon an old show he used to watch as a child while looking for something to watch on TV.</p>
<p>Don't Hug Me I'm Scared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Childhood Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this prompt as an imagine on tumblr but I just decided to turn it into a short fanfic.

"Nope," Cecil groaned as he changed the channel once again in desperation for something good to watch.

In a time span of only five minutes he had flipped through a rerun of Breaking Bad, a talk show where a group of ladies in their thirties were discussing how to keep their skin safe from the hot desert sun, chartreuse and purple static with Ode to Joy playing in the background, and a news report on the mountain-believing cult that has recently grown in popularity among local high school students.

"Cecil, I'm home," the radio host heard his perfect-haired boyfriend Carlos say as he walked through the door carrying in groceries for a nice romantic dinner later. "Where are you?'

"I'm in the living room," Cecil responded and resumed his search for something interesting to watch. He groaned when he looked back at the TV and saw a cooking show where the host was making pastries with blueberry and snake blood filling. 

As Carlos entered the room to cuddle like they usually did on afternoons, Cecil was about to give up any hope of finding a good show and just resorting to watching a documentary on barbed wire tumbleweeds on Netflix.

"What's your favorite idea?" someone sang.

Cecil's face lit up when he heard that familiar British accented voice from the TV. He'd know that voice anywhere. It was the Notepad from his favorite show when he was a child, Don't Hug Me I'm Scared. 

"Mine is being creative," the Notepad continued as Cecil began to recall warming childhood memories of waking up early every morning before school to watch and sing along to the lovable Notepad and puppets.

"I just try to think creatively," Cecil happily sang along with the Notepad, surprised he remembered the lyrics after so many years. 

Carlos looked at his strange boyfriend in confusion. "Cecil, what even is this?" 

"I used to watch this show every day," he answered quickly, obviously eager to get back to singing along. 

Carlos kept watching in awe as Cecil continued to sing every lyric perfectly, almost as if he had been the one who had written them. He observed the show and the characters, curious as to what about this show Cecil loved. It looked very similar to Sesame Street, which he only used to watch when there were no shows about outer space or plants on TV.To him it actually looked normal compared to most of the shows that are popular among Night Vale's residents.

"I might paint a picture of a clown," Cecil sung in a low octave. "Whoa there, friend. You might need to slow down!" he continued in a higher pitch.

"Oh, that's not cool," Carlos said kind of sadly when the black ink was spilled on the Yellow puppet's clown painting. 

'What kind of kid's show does shit like that?' Carlos thought. But then again, this was Night Vale so he remembered that he shouldn't even question things that are even just slightly strange anymore, especially after his near death experience at the bowling alley last year.

"Here's another good tip..." Cecil and the Notepad continued after a brief silence of ruining the clown painting. 

'It's normal to sing along with songs in kids shows,' Carlos told himself. 'I always sing along to The Lion King. Hell, I even sung along to the Frozen soundtrack the other day.' He chuckled at the sight of Cecil enjoying himself so much. 

But that didn't stop Carlos from being a little concerned. He had been living in Night Vale long enough to know that nothing was ever completely normal, and as far as he could tell, this show was pretty normal. Cecil was practically the personification of Night Vale so to see him watching such a normal kid's show was strange even after everything he had seen.

"Come on guys, let's get creative!" Cecil sang with passion as the other three characters were attempting to be creative. 

"Whoa! What the hell?" Carlos exclaimed as the camera zoomed out and the show went from live action to what looked like low-budget computer animation.

Cecil was sitting criss-cross a few feet away from the TV clapping his hands like a child as the music became distorted, following the puppet characters doing some strange dances. 

"What's going on?" Carlos asked curiously and slightly frightened when he saw the black bird cut into a cake of human flesh. 

Cecil, of course, was too into the creepiness on the screen to answer. He chuckled when he saw the word "death" smeared all over the kitchen table, much to Carlos' relief. He should have known this show wasn't completely normal. 

"Now let's all agree," Cecil and the Notepad sang when all of the bloody chaos ended, "to never be creative again."

Carlos let out a sigh of relief when it all ended, both because of how bizarre the ending was and that Cecil was still the strange man he had come to know and love. 

"You okay," Cecil asked getting back on the couch. He gave Carlos a kiss on the cheek because he looked a little scared from the whole show.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Carlos answered and kissed Cecil on his soft lips. 

"Do you want to watch something else?" Cecil asked as he stroked Carlos' perfect curly hair.

"No, this is good. It's actually kind of cute...in a morbid way."

Cecil turned his head as he heard the next episode start. 

"That's not enough time!" the black bird complained.

"There's always time for a song," Cecil sang along with the talking clock on the wall.


End file.
